Super Best Friends Forever
by Trn736
Summary: The Broflovski's are out of town and Kyle is spending the weekend at Stan's. The supposedly fun-filled weekend takes a turn for the worst when Cartman almost gets the boys killed. Rated M for Language and some Violence.
1. Chapter 1

_**Super Best Friends Forever**_

**Disclaimer: **All places and characters referenced to the television show _South Park_ are the property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._ The sound of the clock mounted above the doorway was the only sound that could be heard in Mr. Garrison's fourth grade classroom.

_3:25, _Stan thought, _only five more minutes before the weekend. _

It was Friday and his Super Best Friend's parents were going to be out of town the whole weekend. Which meant Kyle was going to get to stay the weekend with Stan.

Stan sat back in his seat and anxiously thought about what a good time he and Kyle were going to have this weekend. _I bet he'll really like that new videogame I got last week; we're going to have to play it together! Maybe we can play some basketball if the weather stays nice. I wonder if I could convince mom to order us a pizza tonight…_

"Stan?" Kyle inquired as he put his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Huh?" Stan replied seeming a bit confused.

"Dude, the bell rang. Let's get out of here!"

"Sorry, I guess I was zoning off," Stan said as he was gathering his things and they headed for their lockers.

As they stepped out into the hallway they were greeted with the normal after school chaos that ensued after the last bell every day. It was, of course, amplified since it was Friday. The day's unimportant class papers were hitting trashcans, books were hitting the inside of lockers, and coats and backpacks were being hurriedly gathered as elementary students (and some teachers) bolted from the building to start their weekends.

"Are you excited for this weekend?" Kyle asked as they finally reached their lockers.

"Hell yeah! We're going to have so much fun! I've been looking forward to this all week," Stan beamed.

"I know. Me too," Kyle said smiling as he closed his locker belongings in hand.

"Do you want to walk with me to my house so I can get my things or should I just head over in a bit?"

"I'll walk with you, Kyle. Your house is on the way to mine. No point in leaving you behind to walk alone and get mugged or something like that," Stan chuckled.

"Thanks," Kyle laughed.

After about 10 minutes of walking and idle conversation about what they were going to do over the weekend and various things that happened in school throughout the day, they reached Kyle's house.

By this time Shelia and Gerald were already gone so Kyle let himself in with the spare key and made his way up to his room to pack a bag for the weekend.

"Got everything, dude?" Stan questioned.

"Yeah, I think so," Kyle responded and they were off.

It was only about another five minutes or so of walking before the two arrived at Stan's house.

Stan opened the door and was cheerfully greeted, "Hello boys!" by Sharon.

"Hi mom!" Stan said.

"Hi Mrs. Marsh!" Kyle said in unison.

"Thanks for letting me stay over this weekend."

"Oh, it's not a problem Kyle. You're always welcome here."

With that Stan began to head up the stairs with Kyle right behind him.

"Stanley, come here for a minute," Sharon called as the boys were about half way up the stairs.

"Go on ahead Kyle, I'll be up soon."

"Alright, I'll go sit my stuff down," Kyle said climbing up the remaining stairs.

Stan quickly made his way back down and into the kitchen where his mom was.

"Yeah mom?"

"I just wanted to tell you your father is taking me out to dinner and a movie tonight. He's been being very romantic lately. Shelly is going to be looking after you boys tonight. I'll leave her some money and you guys can order some pizza when you get hungry."

_Shit!_ Stan thought. _We have to spend the whole night with Shelly in charge?! Jesus we're going to die! At least we get pizza…_

"Okay mom…," Stan replied pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Don't worry we should be back before midnight, honey," Sharon responded as she hugged her son.

_Midnight. Ha! We'll be dead by then._


	2. Chapter 2

Stan climbed the stairs and opened the door to his room to find Kyle unpacking some of his stuff for the next two days and sitting it on Stan's dresser.

Kyle turned around to face Stan when he heard the door close. Stan looked a little panicked.

"What was that about? Is something wrong?" Kyle asked somewhat concerned at the look on his friend's face.

"Dad is taking mom out tonight!" Stan exclaimed.

"Isn't that good news? We would get your house to ourselves if they left," Kyle said somewhat puzzled at Stan's reaction.

"Dude! We're in fourth grade. They're not going to let us stay alone all night!" Stan nearly screamed.

"That means –," Kyle began as he had some sort of revelation.

"Shelly's in charge!" Stan shouted.

"Oh God!" Kyle now sounded just as worried, knowing what Stan's sister was capable of. "What time are they leaving?!"

"As soon as dad gets home from work."

"We need to get out of the house until later. I don't know how much time we could survive in the house alone with her!" Stan exasperated.

"I agree!" Kyle said. "It's a nice spring afternoon, if we can stay outside and away from her as long as possible maybe we can survive the night."

"We can go to the courts and play some basketball until it gets dark," Stan suggested.

"Good idea!"

By the time they were ready to go it was around 5 o'clock. The boys tried to make the least amount of noise possible going down the stairs heading for the door as they were not sure if Sharon and Randy were gone yet or if the noise would enrage Shelly. They were nearly at the door when they heard that all-too-familiar voice yelling at them from behind.

"Hey turds!" Shelly spat.

Kyle and Stan jumped as they turned around which caused Stan to lose his grip on the basketball he was holding.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" snapped Shelly as the ball rolled away.

"We, uh- we were going to go out and play some basketball," Stan choked out.

"We'll be back s-soon," Kyle said in attempt to back up his friend.

Shelly eyed the boys for what felt to them like an eternity before disclosing, "I'm going out tonight turds!"

"But mom said you had to watch us tonight," Stan replied.

"Mom said I was responsible for you two twerps tonight, not that I had to watch you. I'm going out and I'll be back before mom and dad. I ordered some pizza like mom said so you two dorks don't starve to death while I'm gone."

_Thank god! She's leaving!_ Both Stan and Kyle thought.

Their relief was short lived when they were jarred back to reality hanging off the floor by their jackets in Shelly's fists.

"If you two turds tell mom and dad or do anything I don't approve of while I'm gone I will fucking kill you! Do you understand me?!"

"Yes!" Stan and Kyle both winced as they were dropped back to the ground.

"Good," Shelly sneered as she straightened her clothes and walked out the door.

"Jesus Christ!" Kyle exclaimed as soon as he was sure Shelly was gone, straightening his jacket and ushanka.

"She's fucking crazy!" Stan also exclaimed as he repositioned his poof-ball hat and gathered the runaway basketball.

"Now that the crazy bitch is gone I guess we don't have to flee the house tonight if we don't want to," Stan said in a relieved tone.

"Well, since we were already planning on heading to the courts for a while do you still want to go shoot hoops for like an hour or something?" Kyle asked.

"Sure dude. We can go out there and play around for a while and have some pizza when we come back, it looks like she already got it," Stan replied as he motioned toward the door.


	3. Chapter 3

The nearest courts were about a 15 minute walk from Stan's house back in the direction of South Park Elementary. At that point it was practically walking back to the school to play basketball but they liked the public court in the park better than the one at school because the one at school was very poorly maintained. The cracks and holes in the concrete, the lack of field markings, and the absence of nets on the hoops made it dangerous and difficult to play anything more serious than a game of HORSE at the school. The court in the park wasn't pristine by any means but comparatively, it was like a pro court. As pro as weather-beaten concrete, paint, plastic, and nylon fiber can get anyway.

The route the two friends unconsciously took this day led them right by the house of none other than the obese, rude, immature, disrespectful, spoiled, selfish, manipulative, hated, lazy, foul-mouthed, deluded, mean-spirited, sadistic, racist, sexist, anti-semitic, homophobic, xenophobic, sociopathic, narcissistic, and ill-tempered Eric Cartman.

Cartman was in his backyard with a partially-crumpled piece of paper in his hand and metal tubes and various other pieces strewn about at his feet and around the yard, including a rather large box, yelling at Kenny and Butters as Stan and Kyle walked by…

"No! That piece attaches to that piece right there," Cartman huffs as he points at one of the many metal tubes lying about.

"E-Eric, maybe if you would calm down a little and stop screaming at us we could get something d-done," Butters nervously said almost hiding behind Kenny.

"No one is fucking screaming Butters!" Cartman howled as Kenny picked up a medium sized tube.

"No Kenny! Jesus fucking Christ! Is it really that hard? I knew you were fucking poor but I didn't think you were _this_ stupid!" Cartman ridiculed.

"It really is _this_ hard trying to follow your shitty directions Cartman!" Kenny retorted.

"Aye! Shut up you poor piece of shit! I'm paying you both $5 to put this thing up for me! I own you both!"

"Put what up?" Kyle asked suspiciously as he and Stan rounded the fence into his backyard to check out the commotion.

"Ah, Kahl. You're just in time…," Cartman acknowledged wickedly.

"Just in time for what?" Stan questioned.

"Why, only most cool and awesome thing that you don't have ever Kahl!"

Kyle eyed Kenny and Butters skeptically, "…".

"Kenny and Butters are setting up…my very own… trampoline!" Cartman gleefully stated searching every corner of Kyle's eyes for a hint of jealousy.

"Isn't that super cool you guys?" Cartman asked glancing around at the faces of everyone finally landing on Butters.

"Y-yeah that's n-neat-o," Butters responded still a bit shaken from Cartman's last outburst.

While Cartman's eyes were on Butters, Stan and Kyle glanced at each other and saw the painful difficulty the other was having trying to not burst into overwhelming laughter.

"Aren't you super jeal-," Cartman abruptly stopped as he turned around to see the contorted look on Stan and Kyle's faces.

"What!?" Cartman demanded.

"N-nothing," Kyle snickered.

"Y-yeah, n-nothing," Stan giggled.

"What!?" Cartman demanded again.

This was too much for Kyle as he burst out into hysterical laughter at the thought of _Eric Cartman_ on a trampoline. Stan followed suit. Even Kenny and Butters started to laugh.

"Da fuck you guys!?" Cartman commanded.

"It's just-," Kyle tried to contain his laughter, "the thought of _you_ on a trampoline," Kyle managed to squeak out between gasps for air.

"Yeah, have fun Cartman," Stan managed to say also gasping for air.

"Laugh all you want Kahl. But I'm going to be here (_using both hands to point both index fingers straight at the ground_) having all kinds of fun on my new trampoline, and you're going to be over there (_using both hands to point both index fingers to somewhere off to Kyle's left_) feeling super jealous and envious when I forbid you to so much as touch it," Cartman sneered.

"The only thing I'm going to be jealous of," Kyle snorted, "is not being here for when you finally get the damn thing set up, take one three-foot bounce on it, and come crashing through the middle because you're so fucking fat!"

"Aye! I'm not fat you fucking Jew," Cartman yelled.

"Right, just big-boned," Kyle mocked.

"Fuck you Kahl!" Cartman retorted lividly.

"Well it's getting late Kyle, we better get going if we want to play some ball before the sun goes down," Stan said motioning back to the sidewalk.

"Hey! Can I come with you guys?" asked Kenny as the two boys started to walk away.

"Kenny! You can't leave; you're putting this thing together for me with Butters!" Cartman complained.

"Fuck you!" Kenny snapped.

"Fuck you Kenny!"

"Sure dude," Stan replied as Kenny jogged to catch up.

"I-I've got to be going to Eric. My parents said I had to be home by six a-and they'll be awfully sore if I'm late again," Butter said as he looked at his watch. _6:03_. "Oh hamburgers!" he shrieked as he took off running in the direction of his house.

"Goddammit," Cartman swore as he took off after the group of three boys who were already halfway down the street. "Wait up assholes! You're not leaving me alone here!"


	4. Chapter 4

_Oh no… _Kyle thought as he heard Cartman heavily breathing from his nearly 40 yard jog.

"Cartman, aren't you supposed to be setting up your new trampoline to make me jealous?"

"My workers decided to bail, so that's going to have to wait for a different day…," Cartman angrily said eying Kenny.

"You know, you _could_ just stop being lazy and go try to put it together yourself," Kyle proposed.

"Why the hell would I do that when poor assholes like Kenny here are willing to do hard manual labor for little to nothing?" Cartman asked, sincerely confused.

_He's not going _away…Kyle sighed. "Alright Cartman, you can come with us and play basketball but you need to not be a douchebag, okay?"

"Whatever Kahl! I do what I want!"

_This kid is hopeless_ Kyle somewhat accepted as they neared the courts.

When the boys arrived at the court, they had the whole place to themselves.

Kenny turned to Stan and asked, "So what are we going to play?"

"Well, since there are four of us, we could play some two on two? You and Cartman versus me and Kyle. Sound good?"

"But I don't want to be on a team with Kenny… He's poor," Cartman complained.

"Just because he's poor doesn't mean he can't play basketball Cartman! Now either be on a team with him or go home!" Kyle said, clearly annoyed.

"Fine! I'll be on a team with Kenny…," Cartman pouted.

The four played ball for about 45 minutes. The athletic duo of Stan and Kyle decimated Kenny and the fat boy, as was per the norm. The sun was begging to set over the quite little mountain town and the boys were just about to wrap it up when they were interrupted by an unscrupulous group of older boys who had walked on to the opposite side of the court while they were busy on the other side.

"Get out of here little kids! We're playing now!" said one of the older boys as Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman turned around.

The boy who spoke first was clearly the self-proclaimed 'leader' of the group of 5 boys. He had his hair gelled and spiked with a blood-red headband around his forehead. The black t-shirt he was wearing was covered in skulls and knifes as well as what looked like a blood stain on the slightly-torn left shoulder. The baggy black pants he wore were adorned with a shiny metal chain hanging near the right pocket and he held a basketball with both of his black fingerless glove-covered hands with a force that seemingly threatened to pop it.

This reminded all the boys of the time the troupe of kids from Orange County served them on this very same court. These guys, however, didn't look like they were here to dance. These guys looked dangerous.

Stan was about ready to concede the court to them and call it a night before someone got hurt when Kenny piped up, "We'll stay on this side of the court; you guys can have the other".

_Jesus! Kenny is going to get himself killed. I don't think these guys are messing around. We should just get out of here. _Kyle thought.

"No that's alright Ken-," Kyle was cut off.

"We don't want half the court!" the kid in the headband yelled, "We want the whole fucking thing! So get on out of here before you get hurt!"

"This is a public park asshole, which makes this a public court. Who the fuck do you think you are telling us to leave public property?!" Cartman barked.

_Holy shit! Cartman is going to get us all killed!_ Stan thought in a panic.

"Who the fuck are we?!" The boy said as he threw the basketball he was holding to the side, "We're 8th graders from Five Points Junior High in Denver and I ought to slash your fucking throat for talking to me like that you fat fuck!"

By this point the fourth graders were thoroughly terrified. Even Cartman was visibly shaken.

_Five Points… Oh god… Time to leave._ Kyle heeded.

"Look. We don't want any trouble. We're leaving _right_ now. Sorry for the inconvenience," Kyle shakily said as he motioned for the others to follow.

"That's what I thought," one of the gang leader's cohorts scoffed as they too turned around and began to make their way back to other side of the court.

"Yeah, have fun getting shot in a drug-deal-gone-bad before high school you half-baked, fetid fucking assholes!" Cartman swore under his breath.

_Oh… shit… _Stan thought.

_No… He didn't just… _Kyle mused.

"What the fuck did you just say?!" the gang leader screamed as he stormed back to where the boys were standing, lackeys in toe.

"Cartman?! What the fuck?! You're going to get us all fucking killed!" Stan squealed.

"Which one of you little fucks just said that?!"

"It was him!" Cartman yelled pointing at the Jew.

"Cartman! You son of a bitch! You're going to get Kyle killed for something you said?!" Stan hollered.

"Me?!" Kyle said in panicked disbelief "It wasn't me! It was fat boy over there; he already mouthed off to once! I swear it wasn't me! Please!" Kyle shrieked backing up as the leader closed in on him.

The gang leader had backed Kyle to the edge of the court. The ball court was slightly elevated above the rest of the park to keep it from getting flooded during heavy rain or melting snow. Thus the court was surrounded by this roughly 4 foot incline of gravel and rocks with the grassy park fields on three sides and the hard concrete sidewalk that ran through the park on the other. The gang leader had Kyle backed up to the edge of the incline running parallel to the jagged sidewalk. Kyle was unaware of this due to the situation at hand.

"This should teach you to show some respect you little fucking prick!" He hollered as he used both of his hands to violently shove Kyle.

Kyle stumbled backward and attempted to regain his balance but he was too close to the edge of the gravely incline. He lost his footing on the edge of the court and staggered back as he violently placed his right foot in the gravel in a futile last ditch-effort to stabilize himself before smashing onto the rough concrete below.

"If there weren't more people around," the leader said nodding in the direction of the nearby main street that ran right through town, "we would kill you all right here! You best hope you never see us again because next time… you're all fucking dead!" he screamed as the squad turned and left, clearly uninterested in basketball now.


	5. Chapter 5

"Kyle?!" Stan exclaimed as he rushed over to his friend who was still on the ground with Kenny right behind him. Cartman walked over casually rather unconcerned.

Tears were streaming down Kyle's face when Stan kneeled beside him on the ground.

_Kyle never cries, that must have hurt pretty badly. _Stan thought uneasily.

"Good going Cartman! Look what you're stupid mouth did this time!" Stan said.

"I thought it was pretty funny," Cartman said with a chuckle.

"Funny?! You think antagonizing people who are perfectly capable and willing to slash our throats it funny?! Get the fuck out of here Cartman!" Stan shouted.

"Fine! Screw you guys, I'm going home! Come on Kenny!"

Kenny gave a concerned look at Stan and Kyle before walking off with Cartman back toward his house.

"Dude, are you okay?" Stan asked placing his hand on Kyle's shoulder.

He scanned his friend looking for any visible signs of injury and noticed a wound through his now-ripped pants above his left knee and his now-ripped jacket above his left elbow that were both bleeding moderately from hitting the coarse ground.

"T-that h-hurt," Kyle cried.

"It looks like it did," Stan said soberly, looking at the blood spots that were appearing on his clothes around the wounds. "We need to get those bandaged up, they're bleeding pretty badly. If we can get back to my house, my mom can-," He stopped, remembering his parents weren't home _and_ Shelly was gone along with Kyle's parents. Kyle wasn't in bad enough shape to warrant taking him to the hospital so it looked like it was up to him to help his best friend tonight.

"Let's go back to my house and I'll fix you up, you'll be okay," Stan said with a comforting smile.

"O-okay th-thanks Stan," Kyle sniffled.

With that Stan helped Kyle onto his feet and took one step when he heard Kyle cry out in pain.

"Dude?! What's wrong?!" Stan clamored, taken off guard.

"M-my right foot… I don't th-think I can walk right n-now," Kyle whimpered as Stan sat him gently back on the ground.

This caused Stan to quickly rethink his earlier assumption about not going to the hospital.

_Oh Jesus! Did he break his ankle or something like that too?_ Stan thought anxiously.

"C-can you move it, Kyle?" Stan stammered.

Kyle moves his right foot around timidly.

"Y-yeah I can. I-it just hurts to put p-pressure on it I g-guess."

"I think I should take you to the hospital, Kyle…," Stan said with a disconcerting look on his face.

"No!" Kyle yelped. "We can't let my parents find out about all of this – or yours either, they'll tell mine. If my mom gets wind of this she'll never let me go outside again with as overprotective as she is."

As corny as it sounds, Stan knew that what he just said was true. Shelia might actually _never_ let Kyle come outside again if she knew some gang of boys from Denver hurt him and threatened worse.

By this time Kyle was calming down a little bit.

"Alright dude, I won't take you to the hospital and we can try to keep this a secret, but it might be a little hard since your clothes are torn and bloody and you can't walk right now…"

"I'll take care of these clothes when I get back home on Monday and hopefully with a good night's sleep I won't have too much of a limp tomorrow," Kyle said.

"Okay. We really need to get out of here now. Need to fix you up and I don't want those douchebags finding us alone here. I'll help you walk back to my house. I'd carry you if I could, but I don't see that as much of an option," Stan laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"At least I'm not Cartman. I think we'd _both_ have a hard time even just helping him walk, let alone carry him," Kyle joked.

With that Stan helped Kyle up off the ground for a second time slinging Kyle's arm around his neck and supporting the injured boy with his free arm as they gingerly walked back home.

After about triple the time it took to get to the court, the two boys arrived safely back at the Marsh residence. Stan opened the door and helped Kyle up the stairs into his room and sat him on his bed.

"Sorry…," Kyle said as Stan helped him take off his torn, bloody jacket and roll up his left pant leg.

"Sorry for what?" Stan questioned as he took off his own jacket and hung it on the doorknob.

"Sorry for the trouble of getting me back here and everything since it was my idea to go play basketball tonight," Kyle said sadly.

"It's not your fault a gang of kids from Denver we never knew existed hurt you because of something Cartman said, dude. You have nothing to be sorry about. And you know I would help you out anytime bro, cause that's what super best friends do. Remember?" Stan said patting his friend on the back.

"Thanks man. I'm glad we're super best friends."

"Me too!" Stan smiled.

"I'll go get the first aid kit and fix you up," he said as he walked out of his room toward the bathroom.

Stan promptly returned with a large first aid kit and a bottle of antiseptic. Though we was about as confident in his first aid skills as he was confident in Cartman finishing a 100 meter run in under 60 seconds (not very), he had a pretty good idea of what to do in this situation. He opened that kit and found some large gauze pads, opened one, and soaked it with the antiseptic.

"This is probably going to hurt, Kyle," Stan warned as he neared the large abrasion on his knee with the gauze pad.

"Okay…," Kyle braced himself.

Stan began to brush away the dirt and debris from the wound as well as clean up some of the blood and the area around it.

"Ouch!" Kyle flinched.

When Stan felt the wound was sufficiently cleaned he searched for a large bandage in the kit but couldn't find one big enough; so he decided to use the roll of gauze in the kit. He snugly wrapped the compress around the wound a few times and held it together with some medical tape.

"Gauze? That's defiantly subtle…," Kyle said somewhat concerned.

"Don't worry, it's all I got to cover something that big and it shouldn't be visible under your pants and jacket," Stan reassured.

"Now for your arm," he said soaking another pad in antiseptic.

After that wound was decently cleaned he proceeded to wrap it with the gauze compress also.

"There! All done," Stan said as he dumped the bloodied medical supplies in the trashcan.

"Thanks a lot Stan. You did a really good job. You should consider being a doctor!" Kyle offered.

"Right…," Stan chortled.

"Take your shoe off; let's see how your ankle looks."

Kyle carefully removed his right shoe and set it off to the side.

"Sock too."

He delicately pulled the sock off of his foot wincing in pain more than a few times.

"It looks bruised and a little swollen," Stan said examining Kyle's ankle. "I bet you sprained it in that gravel off the side of the court when you fell."

"Yeah…," Kyle agreed.

"I'll go make you an ice pack to help with the swelling and bruising after I put this stuff back," Stan said as he headed for the door."

"Hey, Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you bring me some ibuprofen too please? It should help with the swelling and the pain."

"Sure thing dude. You should get out of those clothes too before you get blood on something in my room," Stan chuckled as he left down the hall toward the bathroom.

"Good idea!" he heard Kyle say.

Stan placed the first aid kit and the bottle of antiseptic in the exact position that he found it as to not prompt any suspicion later and after a minute or so rummaging around in the medicine cabinet, he found some ibuprofen and stuck two pills in his pocket. He then proceeded downstairs to the kitchen where he found and filled a sandwich baggie with ice cubes and got a glass of water for Kyle to take the pills with and went back upstairs. When he re-entered his room he was glad to see Kyle had changed into his pajamas and the bandages weren't visible through his clothes.

"Here you go," Stan said as he handed Kyle the two pain pills and a glass of water.

"Thanks," he said as he swallowed the pills.

"You should probably elevate that too," Stan suggested as he handed Kyle the homemade ice pack.

"Yeah," Kyle quickly agreed.

Since they were both athletes they knew how to deal with injuries like this.

"You can have my bed tonight, it'll be easier and more comfortable to set up there," Stan said as he flipped on the television to break the relative silence in the empty house. "I'll pitch out a sleeping bag and camp out on the floor tonight."

"Are you sure?" Kyle enquired in a somewhat guilty tone.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Stan said as he set up a few extra pillows at the foot of the bed for Kyle to prop his injured ankle up on.

"I'm starving!" Stan declared as he rolled out his sleeping bag next to the bed and threw a pillow on it. "How about you?"

"Hell yeah! We haven't eaten since lunch and it's nearly 10 o'clock," Kyle recounted as he sat on Stan's bed holding his makeshift ice pack on his, now elevated, injured ankle.

"I'll go get us some pizza," Stan said as he bolted from his room and down the stairs back into the kitchen where he found the pizza box sitting on the counter.

_Pepperoni… Sweet!_ He thought as grabbed two paper plates from the cupboard and threw a few slices on each and ran back upstairs.

" –ere –ou go," Stan said, already munching on a piece, handing a plate to Kyle.

"Sweet!"

The boys sat there contently and devoured their pizza and continued talking and watching Terrance and Phillip reruns for about an hour. It was around 11 when the boys heard the front door. It sort of unnerved them at first, all things considered, until they heard…

"I'm back turds!"

_Whew! Just Shelly… Wait – did I just sigh in relief because Shelly got home? What the hell is wrong with me?!_ Both boys contemplated.

"Kay!" Stand and Kyle yelled in unison.

They watched television for about another hour. By that point, they were both getting pretty tired.

"Well, I think it's time to hit the hay dude," Stan said sleepily.

"Agreed," Kyle yawned.

Stan hopped up and hit the lights and the television and both boys nestled into their spots for the night.

"Goodnight Kyle."

"Night, Stan."

After about 30 minutes or so Kyle broke the silence of the night one last time, "Thanks again for all your help tonight, man… I don't know what I'd do without you…"

"Anything for you, dude. I don't know what I'd do with you either," Stan groggily responded.

All and all, it was a relatively good end to a not-so-good night.


	6. Chapter 6

Sharon and Randy arrived home shortly after the boys fell asleep. The couple didn't bother to check on their son and his friend to make sure they were sleeping safe and sound as the caring parents (Sharon) normally did before going to bed themselves, in light of having _other_ things to take care of after their romantic night out. This was a good thing for the sake of the boys' secret due to Kyle having fallen asleep with an ice pack on his elevated right foot.

The sun was up and flooding through the curtains on what was shaping up to be another pristine, spring, Colorado Saturday as Kyle was the first to stir.

He stretched and rubbed his eyes, squinting at the blinding sun pouring into the room.

_Must have slept pretty hard last night._ He thought as he surveyed the torn-up bed and all the pillows strewn about.

"Stan? Are you awake?" He whispered, leaning over the edge to see if his buddy was still there.

_Looks like he slept pretty hard last night too. _Kyle decided as he observed Stan one leg in his sleeping bag, half his body out on the floor, shirt slightly pushed up, and the left side of his face buried into the far edge of his pillow stillunresponsive to his question.

_Guess not, _he concluded rolling onto his back.

He lay in bed for another few minutes before determining to make a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He threw the covers back and spun out of bed and onto his feet quickly before yelping in pain and crashing back onto the bed.

_Fuck! That hurt!_ He nearly yelled, gripping his ankle. _Oh yeah… Forgot about that…, _he thought stupidly as he tried to stand up again, slowly this time.

_Still a little sore,_ he confirmed putting some pressure on his right foot, _but defiantly not as bad as it was last night. I should be in pretty good shape with a few more pain killers, _he said to himself as he quietly stepped over Stan and made his way to the kitchen with a slight limp.

When he entered the kitchen, Sharon was standing in front of the coffee machine waiting for it to brew.

"Good morning Mrs. Marsh."

"Good morning Kyle!" She said turning around, "You're up kind of early."

"Yeah?" he said, glancing at the clock which only read _6:46 AM. _"Came down to get a drink. I'm really thirsty."

"We'll here, let me get you a glass of water," she kindly offered filling a nearby glass and handing it to him.

"Thanks!"

"Sure honey."

As Kyle walked out of the kitchen Sharon noticed something a little abnormal.

"Kyle, sweetie, are you alright?" she asked in a genuinely concerned motherly tone.

He stopped dead in his tracks worried she might have seen one of his bandages. "Yeah… Why?"

"You're limping," she noted.

_Shit! You can't hide stuff like this from moms! _Kyle panicked as he brainstormed an excuse.

"Oh, that… Yeah… I-I stubbed my toe coming down the stairs," was all he could come up with.

"Those damn stairs! I do that at least three times a week!" she exclaimed clearly buying his excuse as he headed back to Stan's room.

_I cannot believe I actually got away with that_, he thought, satisfied, closing the door to Stan's room.

The shutting of the door roused the sleeping boy.

"Kyle?" he said hazily.

"Morning, Stan."

"How are you feeling?" he asked, sitting up.

"A lot better than last night, that's for sure, although I could still use some more ibuprofen."

"That's great!" Stan said in a clearly relieved tone. "I need to use the bathroom anyway, I'll grab you another two while I'm in there," he echoed as he walked out of his room.

He returned shortly with fresh medication, which he handed to Kyle who then swallowed them without hesitation.

"God! Did a tornado go through here or something last night?" Stan commented as he looked around the disheveled room.

"That's what I thought when I woke up too!" Kyle interjected with a chuckle.

"We need to clean this place up before my mom walks in here and yells at us," Stan said as he began to straighten up.

Kyle joined in. He made the bed and put away some of the extra pillows while Stan rolled up his sleeping bag and cleaned up some of the mess from the pizza he brought in last night.

With their combined effort, they finished in no time at all.

No sooner had they gotten done when they heard a female voice call, "Boys! Breakfast is ready!"

"Awesome!" Stan exclaimed as he motioned for his pal and scurried down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Good morning mom!" Stan greeted, taking a seat at the table with Kyle.

"Good morning Stanley!" Sharon welcomed in return as she sat a plate of pancakes in front of them.

"Thanks mom."

"Yeah, thanks Mrs. Marsh. It looks good."

"So, what are you boys going to do today?" she asked, fixing herself a plate.

Stan glanced at Kyle before saying, "We're probably going to play some videogames and just hang out around here today."

"Now boys, it's a nice spring morning. I don't want you inside playing games all day," Sharon nagged.

"But mom…," Stan complained as Kyle gave him a worried look.

"No 'buts' mister, you will be playing outside at some point today!"

"Fine!" Stan pouted as he finished his breakfast.

Kyle finished his meal shortly thereafter and the boys headed back up to Stan's room to get around for the day.

"Stupid spring day," Stan bitched as he changed clothes. "You think you'll be alright playing outside today?"

"Yeah, I should be okay as long as we don't get into anything too rough," Kyle reassured, delicately putting his right shoe on.

"Well… she said we had to play outside 'at some point' today; so I think that means we can play videogames, for a while at least. You want to kick some ass on that new game I told you I got last week?" Stan asked handing Kyle a controller and flipping on the system.

"Hell yeah, dude! I heard this game is sweet."

"It is pretty awesome," Stan affirmed as he took a seat next to Kyle on the floor.

A few hours and several thousand virtual bullets later, it was nearly lunch time when the doorbell rang.

"Boys! It's one of your little friends; he wants to talk to you!" Sharon shouted up the stairs.

_Jesus Christ… Who could that be?_ Stan thought as he put the game on pause, motioned Kyle, and shouted "Coming!" back down the stairs.

Both boys were a little taken back as they turned the corner off the stairs to see Butters standing at the door.

"Butters?" Kyle questioned.

"What do you want?" Stan said in succession.

"Hi-a fellas! E-Eric told me to come get you g-guys because he needs more people to play a g-game."

_What the hell? _"No! Not with fat ass!" Kyle articulated.

"Yeah, screw that! We're not going to go play some stupid game with Cartman, he almost got Kyle killed last night!" Stan responded.

"O-oh jeez. Well I'm sure glad you're okay K-Kyle, but Eric really wants you t-two to come outside and play with us," Butters attempted again.

Sharon happened to be within earshot to hear the word 'outside'.

"Go on boys," she said, peaking her head around the corner, "This will be a perfect opportunity for you two to get some fresh air. Go out and play for an hour or two and when you come back I'll make you lunch and you can do whatever you want for the rest of the day."

"We don't want to play with Cartman mom…," Stan whined.

"Now Stanley! I'm not arguing with you about this!" she said crossly.

"Fine! Jesus!" Stan said subdued.

With that Kyle motioned Stan off to the side of the door out of range of Butters and whispered, "I'm kind of worried that gang of kids is still going to be searching around town for us today."

"I think you're right," Stan whispered back, "Wherever Cartman wants to play his stupid little game we need to tell him to go to someplace out of the ordinary where they'd never be."

"That's what I was thinking," Kyle acceded.

"How about the edge of the woods on the east side of town," Stan offered, "That's pretty out of the way."

"It's as good of place as any I suppose," Kyle sighed as they turned back to Butters.

"Okay, Butters, we'll come out and play with fat boy on one condition. You need to tell him and whoever else is with him to relocate the game from wherever they are to the edge of the woods on the east side of town." Stan coerced.

"I-I don't know how happy that would make Eric, guys," Butters fidgeted.

"Dammit, we're not concerned with his happiness! We're doing this because we have to! Now go tell him to meet us at the edge of the woods on the east side of town or he's not going to have any people for his stupid little game. Understand?!" Stan voiced angrily.

"Y-yes sir!" he complied as he took off.

"Let's get this over with…," Stan said in a choleric tone has he grabbed his coat and handed Kyle his.

"This is going to suck ass…," Kyle commented as the duo closed the front door and headed for the east side of town.


	7. Chapter 7

The boys cautiously made their way to the east side of town without incident. When they arrived at the pre-determined spot, there was no one to be found.

"Figures we would hike all the way out here for nothing," Kyle said disgusted.

"Yeah… I guess Cartman didn't want to play his dumb game too badly."

"Well what the hell are we going to do for two hours then? We can't just go back to your house," Kyle said, sitting down against a tree to rest.

"Hell if I know…," Stan replied kicking at the ground in a clearly bored fashion.

They were just about ready to leave when they heard a greeting, that had become rather commonplace for the two boys, come from behind them.

"Hey fags," Cartman approached with Kenny and Butters at his side. "Why the fuck did you drag us all the way out here to play this awesome new game I came up with in my sleep last night?" Cartman asked, out of breath and rather annoyed from the long trek.

"To hopefully hide from the gang of pissed-off Denver kids that want us, me specifically, dead because of something _you_ said last night you fucking fat piece of inconsiderate shit! The _only _reason we even came out is because we had to! Don't think we're here out of the kindness of our hearts for you, bonehead!" Kyle screamed, fuming with anger.

"Whoa. Calm down Kahl. No need to-," he was cut off.

"Calm down? Calm down?! Because of _you_ the skin on my left knee and the skin on my right elbow is scrapped halfway to the bone and covered in bloody gauze! Because of _you_ I'm lucky I can walk today! Because of _you_ some violent gang of middle school kids want us _all_ dead! So don't tell me to _'Calm down' _you fucking bastard!" Kyle howled, now shaking with rage.

Cartman staggered backward as Kyle's fiery wall of words hit him completely off guard.

Kyle was _pissed_. He got the message and smartly (for once) decided to say nothing in return.

After a few minutes of awkward silence between the five boys, during which Stan was expecting he would have to pull Kyle off of the fat boy at any moment, Butters built up the courage to nervously ask…

"S-so what game are we playing E-Eric?"

"Um…," he faltered, still taken back by Kyle's unusually violent outburst. "It's a game I came up with in my sleep last night…," he began, carefully watching Kyle. "…It's a game where half of us play Nazi's and half of us play escaped Jews from a death camp. The objective of the game for Nazi's is to recapture their dirty, no-good Jewish prisoners for execution. The objective of the game for the Jews is to escape… Kenny and I are going to be the Nazi's, Stan and Kyle get to be the Jews…"

"W-What team am I o-on, Eric?" Butters asked in the absence of his name being called.

"Butters… You get to be the neutral representative from Switzerland… You just hang out here and wait for the war to be over," he said, point to a nearby log.

"Okay!" Butters replied with a smile, a little too enthusiastically.

_That. Son. Of. A. Bitch!_ Kyle thought, blood boiling, fists clenched.

"You think that shit is funny dickhead?! You think the attempted systematic extermination of various groups of innocent people is fucking funny?! You think playing a game with an idea centered on the genocide of millions of people is fucking funny?! You're a fucking psychopath!" Kyle roared furiously.

Stan, (correctly) sensing his friend was on the precipice of attacking Cartman, attempted to defuse the volatile situation.

"Kyle," he said, placing both hands on Kyle's shoulders which were physically shaking with rage, "I hate Cartman too but you kicking the shit out of him isn't going to help us any, right now at least. We either sit outside for two hours and do absolutely nothing or we play his twisted game. It won't be _that_ bad."

"Gah! Okay! We'll play your sick little game Cartman…," Kyle conceded.

"Good, Kahl. I'm glad to see you finally pulled that dead animal out of your vagina. Now, run along. You two get a 10 minute head start to hide somewhere in the nearby vicinity before the Schutzstaffel fulfills the Führer's wish. If we don't find you within the hour, you win…," Cartman said cynically.

"Come on, Kyle! Let's go!" Stan said as he tugged at Kyle's jacket in the direction he wanted to go.

_I'm going to kill that fat fuck someday… _He thought, still visibly upset, as he walked after Stan.


	8. Chapter 8

The boys had walked a couple hundred yards in complete silence with Stan in the lead when Kyle decided he was calm enough to speak.

"I just can't believe Cartman sometimes, you know? I can't believe he's really _that _much of an asshole…"

"I know, man. I wouldn't take any of what he says to you to heart. He's an ignorant, bigoted retard," Stan said in a light, uplifting tone.

"Why are we even friends with him?" Kyle asked seriously.

"He was cool… once… I think…," was all Stan could come up with.

They traveled another hundred yards or so before hearing, "Lassen sie uns die gefangenen! Schnell!" echo through the trees.

"I think that means they're looking now," Stan commented.

"Yeah."

"We need to find a place to hide!" Stan said.

They proceeded to search the nearby area separately until Stan came across a small cave and called out for Kyle.

"Kyle! Over here! We should be able to hide in here!"

Kyle made his way back over to Stan who was standing at the mouth of a cave.

"In there…? Are you sure that's safe?" Kyle questioned.

"It's the only place that's not right out in the open. Come on!" he said, pulling Kyle into the cave.

"Let's walk back a little deeper into the cave so they can't find us as easily if they happen to walk by," Stan suggested.

_I have a bad feeling about this… _Kyle's instinct told him as the moved away from the entrance and back toward the heart of the cave.

"This should be good, it's just out of line of sight of the woods," Stan said, taking a seat on a nearby rock.

Kyle nodded and did the same.

The boys sat there, devoid of sound, for the longest time before hearing a strange noise come from even deeper within the cave.

"Did you hear that?" Stan whispered.

"Yeah, it sounds like people talking."

"We should check it out."

"Stan…," Kyle warned, but it was too late. He had already taken off deeper into the cave.

They didn't have to explore for long before they found the origin of the noise.

Deep in a cave, a few hundred yards into the woods off the east side of town, the gang of Denver kids were gathered around some battery-powered lanterns talking and going about some of their business which required them to hide in a cave. Three of the five were smoking cigarettes, one looked like he was taking a swig out of a flask, and the kid with red headband was using the face of a coarse rock to sharpen a wicked-looking switchblade.

_Holy shit! _Both boys thought frantically as their stomachs sank.

"We need to get out of here, right now!" Stan anxiously beckoned as he stepped back into a puddle, making a sickeningly loud _splash_.

"What was that?" one of the gang kids inquired as he flipped on a flashlight and shined the beam right on Stan and Kyle.

"It's those kids from the ball court last night!" he yelled as everyone jumped to their feet.

"Run!" Stan yelled in terror as the boys took off.

"Don't just fucking stand there!" the gang leader screamed. "After them!"

Stan was well ahead of Kyle, who was running as fast as he could with an injured ankle, exiting the cave. He signaled to Kyle toward the trees upon his exit. They weaved through trees as fast as they could in some random direction hoping to lose the gang, who was in hot pursuit.

After several minutes of sprinting through the trees, they burst into a clearing a few hundred feet ahead of the gang. On the far side of the open field there was, what appeared to be, an abandoned factory.

"We can hide in there!" Stan rasped, lungs on fire, doubled over trying to catch his breath.

"Okay!" Kyle panted, clearly exhausted.

"They're just through here!" one of the members of the gang yelled, getting dangerously close.

"When you catch them, save them for me! I want the satisfaction of making them bleed!" the gang leader said in his now familiar, evil voice.

"We need to go, now!" Stan hollered as he resumed fleeing. Kyle followed in toe.

As they approached the factory, they scanned for a way in.

"There's a door over here!" Kyle said, running up to the dilapidated building.

"It's stuck!" Stan exclaimed slamming into the door.

"We need to use both of our bodies at the same time to try and force it open!" Kyle said. "On the count of three, we'll ram it together."

They set up for a running start a few feet away from the door.

"One… Two… Three!"

The friends slammed into the door with their combined might which was just enough to break the door open.

"In!" Stan yielded to Kyle so he could stay behind and attempt to block the door.

Stan successfully resealed the door and took off after Kyle, who was about halfway down the long corridor on the near-end of the building.

"I saw them run in here!" one of the gang lackeys said, trying the door.

"They must have blocked it from the inside!" another said.

"Stand aside!" the gang leader said as he positioned himself in front of the door and busted it off the hinges with one brutal kick.

"Shit! I think they just got in!" Kyle yelled as they hung a left into the intimidatingly large main atrium of the former factory which was lit by the multiple half-shattered rows of small square glass windows on the wall near the ceiling on the right side of the room.

The boys hurried to the north side of the atrium as the delinquents rounded the corner into the south side of the atrium, victims in sight.

When Stan and Kyle reached the north wall of the atrium they made a sobering discovery, the only way out was back the direction they came. They were trapped.

"I'm so sorry Kyle!" Stan bellowed. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess, I should have listened to you and not went in that cave! Now they're probably going to kill you and me!" he cried.

"It's not your fault Stan," Kyle reassured, wrapping his arms around his friend. "I'm – _we're_ going to be okay."

Both boys hugged the other tightly as they quivered in fear, awaiting their fate from the approaching hoodlums.

"Nowhere to run children… And no witnesses to testify this time…," the gang leader sneered as he grabbed a large metal pipe from a nearby pile of debris.


	9. Chapter 9

"Alright Jews, we give up! You win! No showers today…!" Cartman yelled through the trees returning to the place they started from.

_Mein Führer would be disappointed, _Cartman sadly thought.

"Gee… Th-They sure are good at hiding. Huh, Eric?" Butters commented.

"Shut up, Butters…," Cartman said crossly.

"Guys, I'm kind of worried," Kenny began after waiting for multiple minutes. "They should have gotten back by now."

"They're probably already back at Stan's house or some shit like that. All I know is it's way past lunch time and I'm fucking starving," Cartman said as he began to walk away.

Not wanting to be alone, Butters and Kenny followed reluctantly even in the absence of their two other friends.

"I thought I told you little morons to never let us see your faces again!" the gang leader shouted, hitting the palm of his hand with his makeshift melee weapon, as he advanced on Kyle.

Kyle broke away from his hug with Stan as he was backed against the wall.

"Please! I'm Sorry! We're Sorry! What do you want?! Please! We'll do anything!" Kyle frantically pleaded.

"Please…!" Stan echoed.

"What do we want…? _I_ want _your_ blood and _they_ want to watch me take it!" the gang leader cackled as he nodded in the direction of his goons, who were seemingly anticipating a great show

With that, talking time was over. The boy tightened his grip on the pipe and with impetuous speed and unbridled strength, smashed it into Kyle's chest.

The boy yelped in intense pain as he collapsed to his hands and knees, barely able to breathe.

"Kyle!" he heard Stan yell, audibly distraught.

Kyle managed to look up and over at Stan just in time to see, in his now pain-breaking vision, him pick up what looked like a fist-sized piece of concrete.

"Leave him alone you stupid fucking faggot!" he screamed, throwing the projectile at the gang leader, hitting him square in the head with a force that caused him to drop the pipe.

"_You_ are fucking dead, kid!" he said, blood trickling down his forehead.

"Get him for me! Now!" he said, waving them after Stan who managed to slip by the group and was now running in the opposite direction.

"P-Please…," Kyle begged, coughing up blood.

"Don't worry kid," he said, recovering the pipe and striking him in head with sickening _crack_.

Kyle crumpled to the ground from his knees in excruciating pain teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, vision blurred, breathing labored, and now bleed heavily from the head.

"Your little friend…," he said, kicking the barely-conscious boy onto his back, "…will be seeing you soon…," he whispered as he snapped his switchblade and sunk it deep into Kyle's left side.

This was too much for the fourth grader. He whimpered in pain and passed out from shock.


	10. Chapter 10

_Oh my god, Kyle! I need to get help for Kyle!_ Stan repeated in his mind, unaware of how dire the circumstances had just become, as he was literally running for his life.

"We can't let him get away, you fucking idiots!" he heard someone yell as Stan burst through a door and into the large, grassy field surrounding the factory.

_I need to lose them, and then I can come back and help Kyle, _he thought as he darted for the woods.

He dodged trees at full speed for nearly a mile and a half before he felt like his chest was going to explode.

_Need…to…hide…_ he said to himself as he ducked behind a fallen tree, praying they would miss him.

"He came through here," the gang leader said, standing only a few feet from where Stan was hiding.

After what seemed like an eternity of breath-holding tension, the boys took off deeper into the woods.

"Whew!" Stan said quietly, whipping the sweat from his forehead.

_I can't go back yet_, he regretfully decided. _If I go back now, the gang will surely come back to Kyle to find me._ _I just hope he'll be okay for that long, _he thought, referring to his friend's difficulty breathing, still completely unaware of the emergency of this situation.

He sat in the same position, worrying about his super best friend for nearly an hour and a half before he heard voices nearing again.

"Goddammit! If that little fuck got to the police, we're all going to be fucking screwed!" one of the goons stated.

"We should go back to the factory and wait for him to come back and help his little buddy," someone else stated.

"No," the gang leader overrode. "If he got to someone, the first place all the cops and medics in Park County are headed is that building. It's time to get the fuck out of here."

"Well, shouldn't we go back and make sure the kid in the little green hat is _unable_ to go get help, just in case the kid in the brown coat dies in the woods or something?" one of them asked.

Stan, all of a sudden, felt very sick to his stomach at that thought.

"Don't worry guys… The kid in the green hat is done for," the leader boasted as the crew dispersed into the woods.

_Done for?! Oh my god! What did they do?! Kyle!_

After a few more minutes, he decided it was safe and broke from his hiding spot.

He sprinted faster than he ever had in his life, completely overwrought with panic of the wellbeing of his friend, to the factory.

By this time, the sun was nearly setting.

Sunset was approaching when Kenny, still concerned about the absence of his two friends earlier in the afternoon, decided to go check on them.

As he rounded the corner onto the street where both Stan and Kyle lived, the multitude of police cars that lined their side of the street immediately confirmed his feared suspicion.

He approached the Marsh residence, knowing the Broflovski's were out of town, and knocked on the door.

Randy and Sharon answered. She was bawling and looked like a complete wreck.

"Are Stan and Kyle okay?" he wasted no time asking.

"The boys went out to play earlier this afternoon and they never came home!" Sharon sobbed, Randy comforting her. "I already called Kyle's parents, they're on their way back home right now."

"Eric, Butters, and I were there," he began. "We were playing a game near the woods on the east side of town. You should start looking for them there," he said quickly.

"Thank you Kenny!" Randy said as he approached an officer.

"Woods on the east side of town?" the policeman repeated. "There's an old factory close to there. We'll get some people out there right away!"


	11. Chapter 11

As Stan rushed out the woods into the factory clearing, the only thing going through his mind was, _Please be okay Kyle. Please be okay Kyle, Please be okay…_

He reached the still ajar door and immediately ran inside, not even caring if it was some sort of ambush. The only thing he cared about was Kyle.

"Kyle!" he screamed running back through the corridor.

As he turned into the atrium of the factory, he stopped dead in his tracks as a shiver ran up his spine.

"Kyle?!" he shrieked, running toward the still figure on the ground on the other side of the atrium.

As he neared the shrouded silhouette, the setting sun achieved just the correct angle for sunlight to flood through the shattered windows into the factory and illuminate Kyle, bruised and mangled, lying in a pool of his own blood.

"Oh my god! Kyle!" Stan choked, tears now streaming down his face, as he hurried to the side of his best friend in the whole world.

As he knelt beside Kyle, he observed a sickeningly large gash on his friend's head and blood gushing out of what looked like a stab wound on his left side; but most importantly of all, he noticed Kyle was still breathing ever so shallowly and sharply.

_He's alive!_ Stan thought, tears still streaming down his face. _But if he keeps bleeding like this… he's going to bleed to death. I have to get him out of here!_

"Kyle?" he tenderly asked touching his friend's arm, not getting a response.

"Kyle, you can't die! I'm not going to let you die Kyle! I don't know what I'd do without you…!" he sobbed. "You're like a brother to me! Please don't die…! Please…!" he begged as he hugged his bloodied friend.

Stan's emotional jarring helped Kyle regain consciousness.

He slowly cracked he eyes to reveal a heavily blurred outline of what looked like a red poof-ball hat hovering over him.

"S…tan…?" he managed to say weakly between sharp, painful breaths, hovering near the brink of unconsciousness.

"Kyle!" he exclaimed, grasping he friend's hand. "I'm going to get you out of here buddy! You're going to be okay!"

Kyle tried to say something but Stan hushed him stating "Save your energy Kyle, you've lost _a lot_ of blood."

Stan knew he had to stop, or at least slow the blood gushing from Kyle's left side or he would surely be dead in minutes. Thinking fast, he threw off his coat and used it to put extreme pressure on the wound. This caused Kyle to cry out in pain and almost pass out again.

"I'm sorry!" Stan cried. "This will slow the bleeding."

_I need to get him to the hospital, now!_ _We can't stay here any longer if I want him to have a chance at surviving this._

"Kyle…," Stan said, grabbing on to Kyle's arms. "We need to get you to a hospital, right now. I'll help you up and carry you like I did last night with your ankle. Okay?"

Kyle feebly nodded as Stan pulled him up to a sitting position, which caused him to screech in pain.

"Okay…Kyle…," Stan began, voice breaking. "This is going to hurt… a lot… Please forgive me…," he winced as he pulled Kyle to his feet, who cried out in sheer agony.

Stan grabbed his coat off the ground and proceeded to re-apply pressure to his hemorrhaging wound as he slowly led him back through the factory.

When the two reached the exit, Stan was losing hope.

The town was still a few miles off and the hospital was further off than that.

Even though he was nearly certain this would be his best friend's untimely demise, giving up wasn't even an option. He was going to do absolutely everything in his power to save his best friend.

The boys were about halfway through the field to the woods when Kyle faintly said, "S…tan…, I…I'm…" and lethargically fell to the ground.

"Kyle?!" Stan wailed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

This was it…His best friend…In the whole wide world…Was going to bleed to death…In his arms.

"Kyle! You need to stay awake! Stay awake Kyle!" Stan implored.

"S-Stay w-w-with me K-Kyle! P-P-Pleas-se!" was the last thing Kyle heard as the blurry vision of Stan's distraught face narrowed and he succumbed to the enveloping darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

What the hell happened?

I remember Cartman and his dumb game…

I remember a cave…

I remember running through the forest for some reason…

I remember a factory…

I remember holding Stan… Telling him _we're_ going to be okay…

Okay – from what?

Goddammit! Why can't I remember?!

Why the hell can I not remember?!

Wait…

I remember… Stan running – being chased… By something – someone.

Blood…

Blood – Oh my god! What happened to Stan?!

"Please wake up Kyle…Y-You have to w-wake up-p… I n-need you… P-P-lease…"

Wake up? Me?

Okay. What the hell is going on here?

_Beep... Beep... Beep…_

And what in the fuck is that annoying sound?

Kyle lay in a bed in the intensive care unit of Hells Pass Hospital. His right arm is embellished with needles, tubes, and medical tape from the three intravenous medications and blood transfusion being pumped into him, hanging from a nearby IV stand. His left index finger is adorned with a pulse oximeter, displaying his weak vitals on a screen near his bed. His left side and forehead are embroidered with multiple stitches and garnished with thick layers of gauze. His nostrils are emblazed with oxygen tubes to steady his sharp, shallow breathing.

He's been unconscious for three days. The doctors say his odds of recovering are slim. Yet one person hasn't left his side, nor plans to, until his _friend_ _recovers_.

Stan sat on the edge of Kyle's hospital bed holding his best friend's limp, needle-laced hand.

Stan's eyes were severely bloodshot and fatigued from the crying and lack of rest.

He looked physically sick from worry as he shakily enclosed Kyle's hand with both of his and began to pray to a god he was beginning to doubt existed.

"Please God…," he said aloud. "Please don't take Kyle…He's such a good g-guy…I love him like a brother…He doesn't deserve this… Please God! If you let Kyle live I promise I'll never ask you for anything ever a-ag-agai…," he broke down crying.

"W-why can't you ta-ke someone lik-e Cartman?!" he nearly screamed. "S-some-one no-nobody would m-miss-s!"

Stan returned Kyle's hand, planted his elbows in the edge of the bed, and buried his face in his hands sobbing uncontrollably.

A few minutes into his crying fit, he felt a hand gently grip his left forearm.

"Stan…?" Kyle said weakly.

"Kyle?!" Stan jumped.

"Kyle!" he embraced his friend tighter than he ever had before.

"Ouch! Too-too hard…," Kyle moaned in pain.

"Oh shit! Sorry dude!" he apologize, still in tears.

"W-why are you crying Stan…? I'm okay-y…," Kyle questioned.

"I'm just so happy you're alive, Kyle…! The doctors said it wasn't looking good after the first few days. I thought I was going to lose my super best friend…," he sniffled.

"H-how long was I-I out?" he asked woozily.

"Three days, bro. The longest three days of our fucking life do date I'm sure," Stan responded.

"D-did you – Y-you were here-e with me the w-whole time?" Kyle asked.

"Yep!" he smiled. "I only left a few times to use the bathroom."

"W-why?" he questioned.

"I thought of how I would feel if I woke up alone in a hospital room from some shit like what you went through, and I concluded I didn't want you to be alone when you woke up."

"I'm pretty sure I h-have the b-best friend in the whole – whole w-w-world…," Kyle said, tears rolling down his cheeks, as he placed his hand on Stan's.

"I _know_ I have the best friend in the whole world," Stan reassured.

"Let me go get everyone! They'll be so happy you're awake!" he said, running out of the room.

_I wonder what happened…_ Kyle thought, taking a good look at all the machines and bandages. _It feels like I got hit by a bus._

"Kyle?! Bubi!" Shelia yelled as she stormed in the room, Gerald, Ike, Sharon, Stan, and a doctor following closely behind.

"H-hi mom," Kyle winced as she hugged him.

"Kyle! We're so glad you're okay!" Gerald said, also hugging his son.

"Stan told us everything about those horrible kids from Denver bubile! You don't have to worry anymore; they caught and arrested them just outside of town for what they did to you!"

_Denver kids…? That gang? They did this to me?!_

"S-so when can I get out of here?" Kyle said trying to sit up.

"It will be a few days, honey," Sharon said, easing him back into the bed.

"Yeah, dude. You nearly bled to death," Stan said putting his hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Don't worry though, I promise I'll keep you company for as long as you're here," he comforted.

_Bled… to death?_

"H-hey, guys? Can I talk to Stan a-alone for a bit?"

"Well, sure son. We'll be outside if you need anything," Gerald said as all the adults exited the room.

Stan looked at his friend in curious anticipation.

"W-what the hell happened S-Stan? My – my whole body h-hurts…," he whimpered, surveying all the bandages on him and all the tubes running into him.

"You don't remember anything that happened?" Stan asked.

"I r-remember r-running into that factory with you and hugging you… I r-remember say-ing _we're going to be alright_. Then I remember seeing-g you run-ning… And b-blood – you…," Kyle managed to say, still obviously disoriented from the whole ordeal.

Before Stan could get a word in edgewise, Kyle worriedly asked, "Y-you – You're oka-y? Right, Stan?"

"You're the one stuck in the hospital, who nearly died, and _you're_ asking _me _if I'm okay? What is wrong with this picture?" Stan playfully joked.

"But – but I r-remember you and seeing blood…," Kyle articulated.

"Don't worry that you can't remember the whole thing, Kyle," he said, pulling a chair up to the bed. "The doctors said you had severe head trauma, a major concussion, or something like that."

"The b-blood…?" Kyle questioned.

Stan felt his stomach drop a little at the true response to that question, knowing that it would probably upset Kyle quite a bit.

"All the blood you remember…," he began, "Was yours…," he said calmly, as to try not to panic his friend.

"M-Mine…?" Kyle hesitated.

"You look like hell, dude. I think I should let you rest," he concluded through Kyle's now-pale complexion.

He was heading toward the door, angry at himself for flustering Kyle, when he heard a faint plea.

"W-wait! T-tell me what h-happened!"

"I don't want to get you too worked up, dude. You've been through a lot. I could just tell you later…"

"Now!" Kyle demanded.

"Okay!" he sighed at the stubbornness of his friend. "I'll fill in the gaps and explain what happened," he said, taking a seat back in his chair by the bed. "But you have to promise me you're not going to have a heart attack or pop your stitches or anything like that when I tell you what happened…"

"I'll stay c-calm," he promised.

"Alright, so we were trapped on the far side of a factory we tried to hide in; that gang from Five Points chased us through the woods after we stumbled upon them in some random cave trying to play some stupid game with Cartman because my mom forced us to go outside. That douchebag gang leader picked up a pipe from a pile and backed you into a corner. I was frantically trying to find something to distract them from you, so I picked up a chunk of concrete and threw it at that fucker…"

"You – you antagonized them to hurt you to s-save m-e?" Kyle interrupted.

"I tried…," Stan whispered, choking back more tears. "By the time I thought of and found something to throw at him, he hit you in the chest with that pipe… so hard… I thought it killed you…," he said, tears welling in his eyes.

"The doctor said you have two broken ribs from that blow and some internal bruising…"

"Th-at would explain why it h-hurts to breathe…," Kyle said, almost jokingly.

"After I distracted them," he resumed, "I bolted through two of them and ran like I never had before. I was trying to lead them away from you… so I could come back and help you…," his voice trembled. "But those stupid fuckers chased me for miles and then I had to hide and then I had to wait! It took hours!" he frustratingly exclaimed. "I shouldn't have left you alone! I should have stayed with you! But I fucking ran off instead!" he yelled punching the table beside Kyle's bed.

"Stan…," he attempted to soothe, placing his hand on his friend's shaking shoulder. "You did-d the on-ly thing you could have done… If you would h-have stayed there… We – We'd probably _both___be _dead_ r-right now."

"When I finally got back to the factory the sun was setting. Sprinted back to where we were cornered… I was just about at the far side of the atrium when the sun shot through the glass near the roof… I saw… your still body… lying in a pool of blood… I ran over to you, absolutely hysterical, you _had_ to be dead – until I knelt beside you… You were still breathing, just barely… You had a nasty gash on your head and blood was pouring out of your left side…," he said, staring off at a wall.

Kyle listened, sincerely disturbed. He moved his hand to his heavily bandaged head and then to his tender side as Stan glanced back at him.

"He smashed you in the head with that pipe at some point," he voiced softly. "15 stitches in your head…"

"A-and m-y s-side?" Kyle asked fearfully.

"He fucking stabbed you…," Stan said, almost as distraughtly as when it happened. "17 stitches… He missed all of your vital organs… but you nearly died of blood loss," he said motioning to the bag of blood hanging from the IV stand.

_Stabbed?!_ Kyle suddenly felt very sick at the thought of his own mortality in combination with the multiple strong painkillers and antibiotics flowing through his veins. Stan noticed this and quickly held up a pan sitting on a nearby table just in time to catch the vomit.

"Should I – Should I call the doctor back in here?!" Stan asked worriedly.

"N-No I'm ok-ay," he said clearing his throat. "W-would you hand me tha-t w-water plea-se?" he asked weakly.

Stan grabbed the cup of water off the stand and helped Kyle take a few sips before sitting it back down.

"Do – Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yeah…"

"I – I knew I had to slow the bleeding," he began again, "So I took off my jacket and pressed it into your side… I also knew I had to get you to a hospital very quickly… I begged and pleaded for you to wake up to help me get you there… You actually did come to… For a while… I pulled you to your feet and we slowly made it out of the factory and into the field…," he began to sob.

"Th-e h-hospital wa-s so far a-way and I – I kne-w there was-nt much hope… B-But I – I was n-not going to gi-ve up! W-e made it a-bout halfway to the w-woods when you c-c-collapsed. Y-you were going to d-die right there in-in my arms!" he cried so hard, he gasped for air.

After a few moments of only silence and the cries of, clearly traumatized, Stan; Kyle had the courage to ask, "S-s-o how did w-we get he-re?"

He sniffled and cleared his throat, "Not even a minute after you passed out again… A group of search and rescuers came through the tree line."

"H-how did they…"

"They brought a helicopter in and took you here…"

Kyle anticipated something bad from the long pause.

"You… You… died in the helicopter – your heart stopped. The doctors managed to restart your heart on the way here…," he was shivering as he spoke.

Kyle suddenly felt very ill again and threw up a second time.

"Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again Kyle! Ever!" he looked almost as pale as Kyle now.

Kyle managed to sit up far enough to wrap his arms around Stan, who embraced him back.

The two sat in silence embracing each other for about a minute before Stan said, "They wouldn't let me go into the operating room with you," he smiled. "But I've been here ever since."

"Thanks, dude!" Kyle said emotionally. "You're the best-t friend a-a guy could ha-ve," he said, choking back tears.

"Alright Stanley," Sharon said, poking her head through the door. "Kyle's parents want to see him for a little while and then he needs to get some rest."

"Okay mom. Just give us like one more minute, please."

"Just one," she said, shutting the door.

"S-so you've been h-here for like 72 hours with m-e?"

"More like 85," Stan laughed.

Kyle surveyed his best friend. His eyes were sagging and bloodshot. His hair and hat was askew. His t-shirt and jeans were still dirty and spattered with blood. It looked like he had gone through the same mental version of hell that Kyle physically went through.

"Can you do me a favor tonight Stan?" he managed to say clearly.

"Of course," Stan quickly responded.

"Go home tonight. Eat dinner with your family, take a shower, and sleep in your own bed. Okay?"

"But…," he softly objected.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine Stan," Kyle reassured.

"Okay…," he gave in.

"Time to go Stanley," Sharon motioned him to the door.

"I promise I'll come back and see you after school every day until you get out of here," Stan said comfortingly.

"See you tomorrow," Kyle smiled.

"Later, dude. Have a good night," he said as he walked by the Broflovskis and exited the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Kyle remained hospitalized for 5 days. Stan spent every afternoon and evening after school with his best friend as well as the majority of the Saturday and Sunday he was there. That following Monday, a week after the ordeal, Kyle was allowed to go back to school. His head and side were still stitched and bandaged but his hat and jacket covered both respectively. Everyone was glad to see him back in school, and everyone gave him a sort of "special" treatment for a while. Everyone was concerned about him, always asking how he felt or helping him with things. Stan, of course, was right beside him throughout the entire school day for the first week he returned. Even Cartman took about a week hiatus from insulting Kyle and his religion because of what happened, even though he still didn't blame himself.

A few weeks later, things were back to normal.

"Fags!" Cartman whispered.

"Shut up Cartman! Just because we didn't invite you to hang out with us this weekend to almost get us fucking killed again, doesn't mean you have to be a little bitch!" Stan snapped quietly.

"Boys! If I hear one more word, you're staying after school and reorganizing _all_ of the textbooks in the classroom! Don't make me do that boys, it's Friday and I'd be just as pissed as you if I had to sit here and make sure you little retards did it right!"

"Sorry Mr. Garrison…," Cartman said sarcastically.

"Dude, I can't believe your mom even lets you out of the house after what happened, let alone allowing you to stay the weekend at my house again after what happened last time…," Stan whispered to Kyle.

"I know. I anticipated being locked in my room for the rest of my life, as overprotective as she is. You should have heard the lecture she gave me when I asked if we could spend the weekend together… It was totally over the top. So much so that I just packed what I needed for the weekend and threw it in my backpack this morning. If I had to go back to my house after school today, we wouldn't get over to yours till like 6!"

"Kyle!" Mr. Garrison yelled.

"Sorry Mr. Garrison! I was just asking Stan what homework problems we needed to do from Monday. I didn't get them written down."

"Please wait until I'm done talking to ask next time," Garrison said obliviously, turning back around to the board.

After a few moments of silence, Stan decided to risk speaking yet again.

"I promise this weekend will be more fun than the last time, for both of us," he said smiling.

"We haven't really spent much time together outside of school in the past few weeks, so just hanging out with you will be fun enough for me," Kyle smiled back.

"Awe, isn't that sweet? Are you two going to make out all weekend?" Cartman antagonized.

"Shut up fat ass!" Kyle retorted.

"Don't call me fat you fucking Jew!" Cartman roared.

"Eric, that's it! You're staying after school!" Mr. Garrison yelled, clearly disgusted.

"What?! But- Kyle- It was- The Jew set me up!" he assured.

"I don't care, you're staying after school and that's final!"

"Serves you right Cartman," Stan commented as Kyle smirked.

"I hate you guys… So much…," Cartman scowled as the bell rang.

"Later Cartman!" Kyle waved as he walked out the door with Stan.

The boys quickly made their way through the Friday afternoon chaos in the halls and out the door toward Stan's house for the weekend.

"So how are you feeling?" Stan asked as the boys walked.

"My side is still a little sore but other than that, I feel fine."

"That's good, dude. I'm glad you're okay."

"Hey, Stan…?" Kyle stopped walking.

"Yeah?" Stan asked almost worried.

"I just wanted to say, Thanks. Thanks for helping me; thanks for being there for me; and thanks for caring about me. I couldn't ask for a better friend," he said patting Stan on the back.

"That's what super best friends do," he said patting Kyle on the back in return. "I couldn't ask for a better friend either."

The two arrived at Stan's house a few minutes later.

"Hello boys!" Sharron greeted as Stan closed the door.

"Hi mom."

"Hey Mrs. Marsh."

"How are you feeling, Kyle?" she asked.

"I feel alright."

"That's good to hear! Your mom brought me over some of your pain medication for your side this morning. If you need some just come and let me know."

"Okay. Will do. Thanks Mrs. Marsh," Kyle said, climbing the stairs to Stan's room right behind him.

"So… What do we want to do?" Stan asked, throwing his backpack by his closet.

"Well…," Kyle began, as he sat his backpack next to the nightstand. "We could go outside and play some basketball. It is pretty nice out."

"Dude…," Stan looked, dumbfounded, at his friend.

"Eh, you're right," Kyle sighed. "Fuck that. Let's just play videogames all weekend like normal kids."


End file.
